Dracula Untold : Film Review

Today I'd like to talk (write) about the 2014 Gary Shore film Dracula Untold (2014), written by Mark Sazama and Burk Sharpless, starring Luke Evans, which I stumbled upon while trying to get the taste of another film out of my head.

Fantastic performance from Luke Evans

I had heard nothing of Dracula Untold. It sounded like another trashy vampire film or even documentary, but popped up as a suggestion, and I was eager to find some way of watching something - literally anything - else that would take my mind off the last 90 minutes of my life I would never get back after watching - let's call it Film X - which has quite a lot of A list stars in it.

I thought, "I'll give this one five minutes and if it doesn't grab me I'm going to bed."

But to my surprise, it did. I found myself swept up immediately in a strange colour paletted world of heroism, tragedy and darkness. Something akin to the style of the film 300.

And then there was talk of Vlad the Impaler fighting Turks and I thought, right, okay, wasn't expecting Turks, but go on.

The main character, played expertly by Luke Evans, was a prince who had his head on his shoulders. But who was he? Was he Vlad the Impaler or the 'son of' narrator? He was leading an exploration with his soldierly mates on the rocks of a river that could have been the Clyde at New Lanark Mills, and I thought, "Right, a down to earth prince who has the smarts to figure out there's something nasty in the cave up there, and that corpses flow downstream, but what's the connection between him, Dracula of legend, his castle, and the Turkish threat?"

Something about Luke Evans, who I'd never seen before, suggested that he was a good man who didn't like doing bad things to save his family and people, but might if push came to shove, or so we, the audience, hoped. He had the consistent look I must have whenever I have to do something unpleasant but must be done for the greater good, like clean the bathroom, or wake up early.

And then it turned out he was going to give away his only son to become a child soldier of the Turks even after explicitly promising not to! What!? No!? Tell me it ain't so, Luke! If he does this, I'm going to bed right away in disgust!

And then they're on the hill and he's just on the verge of handing his own son over and lose him forever, and I thought, "No! He can't do that!" and the Turk laughs, "To be honest, we thought you would offer a little more ... resistance." And the prince kneels down and whispers to his son, 

"Go back to your mother ..."

It's that moment, that precise second, when a certainty descends on you and you know things are going to get interesting.

Gary Shore's Dracula Untold does not disappoint. Especially if you have kids of your own, you will be on the edge of your (in my case) hammock every second from that point on. So much at stake (pun not intended but I'll take it). If you've seen the equally excellent Maleficent (completely different writer and director) which tells a popular tale from a totally different angle that spins your head around 720º, you'll have an idea what I'm talking about.

I asked myself, "These two films - Dracula Untold and Film X - are absolute polar opposites. One is amazing, starring a host of (to me) unknown actors, writers and director, and the other has all the big names but is a complete damp squib. What happened? What went wrong?"

Here's what I came up with.

• It goes all the way back to Concept. Even before Script, there is Concept. Dracula Untold is just a good idea from the get go. It's an original dark love story which turns the classic tale upside down. That's a huge strength, because it will always surprise us.
• Film X borrowed a lot from other films like Highlander, Batman etc. In many ways Film X was an 80s film made in the 2020s.
• Dracula Untold was a labour of love for the writers. The two obviously spent many hours drinking coffee and/or alcohol together bouncing ideas of each other and the wall thinking to themselves, "This is gonna kick ass."
• The writer(s) of Film X seemed to be thinking, well, we need a vehicle for these A List stars to do their thing, and we need it by this deadline. So what should we do?
• The director of Dracula Untold was on a whole other level from the beginning. He loved the script, he loved vampires, he loved messing with people's heads, he had a love of cinema and liked to take risks. He was a fan of 300. It was a passion project and will probably be his own favourite creation for years to come.
• The director of Film X seemed like he turned up on Monday morning and worked 9-5. He (or she) put in the required hours. But maybe the script didn't inspire. (S)he probably also thought, 'this sounds like it's an 80s film in the 2020s.' But I'll do what I can with it, because of the A listers.
• There's a big plot hole in Film X which at some point, someone reading the script should have raised a red flag. "No, this doesn't work, sorry," they should have said. But they didn't. Or they did and no-one listened. Possibly due to the fear of the A-listers being on board.
• Dracula Untold has all new faces, save one, the original vampire who I recognised. Film X, had several huge names, all of whom were unable to shake their previous roles adequately to convincingly portray these ones. But I get it. They need to work like the rest of us. But do I need to watch?
• During a snuggle scene between Luke Evans' character and his wife, there was a bit of a spark. I actually thought, "Ooh, that's nice, it's almost as if they fancy each other." No sparks in Film X. Unless you get turned on by awkwardness and plot holes.
• The special effects and make up were good in both films. Better in Dracula Untold, though, if I'm being honest. But they were also used more effectively. In Film X, the SFX were like: "Look! A monster!" whereas in Dracula Untold, they were like: "Holy shit! Look what that fucking monster is doing!"

Yeah, that's about all the facets of these two films I can analyse at the moment. One a diamond; the other only glass.

To sum up then, I'd recommend watching Dracula Untold.

But not Film X.

Adrift

I thought I’d treat myself to a bit of writing this morning because I feel that my life is lacking something. I find that when my imagination is not working on something constructive, it works instead on something maybe not quite so good.

Last night I watched Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon again. It’s such a great film. I couldn’t believe how affected by it I was the first time I watched it in Japan on my laptop - it was one of those films that just blew me away. Watching it again with the English voiceover I was struck by how good the voice actors were too. Of course the first time I saw it I wasn’t aware that the reason Chow Yun Fat puts his hand behind his back while balancing on the ultra-thin bamboo branches was to support himself on the wires. I fell in love with Michelle Yeoh all over again.

Now it’s a classic, as are many films I still consider relatively new. I guess that’s what happens when you get older.

My life is a spinning compass. I’m adrift. I have no direction. I wish I had a job at least, so someone could shout at me if I went astray. But no. Working for myself I can spend hours on social media doing ‘marketing’ and researching the ‘market’ or in other words ‘dicking about’.

Let us chart a course then, my friends, and hold fast! And use big ass bullet points for emphasis!

• I need to continue working on my videos.
• I need to prepare for some English lessons
• I need to wrap and return a present
• I need to prepare for West Lothian Film tonight 7-9pm
• I need to practice and prepare for the January Saltire Zoom Open Mic tomorrow night 8pm-11pm
• I need to stop saying 'need' so much
• I should write some of 'Travels in Japan' and 'Jake Jones & The Puppy Master'

Yes, if I can get these things done I’ll be satisfied. 

 

White Christmas, Green Year?

It's a brand new decade! I hope you all had a great Christmas & New Year and wish you a safe, healthy, happy and green 2021.

   Why green? You mean like the Grinch? Not exactly. With everything that's been going on, the fight against carbon has kind of taken a back seat. But the climate is still changing. We used to call it the Greenhouse Effect back in the 80s, before someone decided that was not a very politically correct phrase, and after all, who could prove for sure that the climate didn't just change of its own accord? Of course it does, just a lot faster with our help.

Click to enlarge this graph from Climate.gov

   As you may know, I like to record our monthly energy usage data, put it in a spreadsheet, calculate the CO2 emissions associated, and draw up a graph. Because I'm a bit of a nerd like that.

   How? It's simple. On the first of each month I go round and record the readings from our electricity, gas, and solar meters, and record the mileage of my car. Next I put them in a spreadsheet. Then I do the same the next month, and subtract the difference. After that I researched on various websites how to convert electricity and gas into kg of CO2 emissions (CO2e/KG)*. Finally, in the last column, you add it all up. Looks a bit like this:

   Nice, eh? Red represents winter, green summer and blue is spring and autumn. 

   Here are our CO2 emissions for the past two years from 1/1/19 to 1/1/21.

   The orange line is our electricity, green our car usage, blue is gas, yellow is solar and brown is total.

   The CO2 emissions for car take into account the mile per gallon reading (56.3) and CO2 emitted during the car's manufacture, spread out over its projected lifespan per mile. Because cars don't just grow on trees.

   The electricity usage 'should' be lower than if we didn't have solar panels. But since we've always had solar panels since a couple months after we moved in, this is hard to gauge. 

   The solar reading is negative because it represents the energy we put into the grid (50% after what we use in the daytime) rather than take out. 50% is pretty accurate I guess. (I have no idea really. The guy who put the panels on told me, so that's the best I got.)

   As you can see for the graph, our total carbon emissions are dropping year on year. Electricity and gas remain relatively unchanged, but car emissions are on the decrease. This is because in 2018 I often drove into Edinburgh for business meetings, which ceased in around spring 2019, bringing it down to normal levels in winter 2019. Then 2020 brought Covid-19 and with it lockdown and working from home. 

   This is all moot anyway now as we take our electricity and gas from Bulb, which is a renewable energy company providing either gas from anaerobic digestion, or offset by supporting carbon reduction projects around the world. This just leaves our car. But happily Bulb provide a carbon footprint calculator and payback scheme which allows you to offset your additional carbon emissions using a monthly payment. We pay about £3 per month on top of our energy bills. 

   Why just £3 per month? I guess because the electricity and gas is all carbon neutral to begin with being from Bulb, and the car is a hybrid which we hardly use that much due to lockdown. We hardly fly any more and don't eat much red meat. Don't get me wrong, I like a long-haul flight to Japan to eat steak as much as the next person. Just haven't done it since 2018. (Technically I should have added that on here, but I've also planted a tree or two since then so I'm hoping they cancel each other out).

   Try the Bulb Carbon Footprint Calculator here. Go on. I dare ya!

   I know this is beginning to sound like an advert for Bulb, but it's not product placement. It's in our species' own interest to record, reduce and offset the CO2 emissions we produce. The more people who do it, the better the effect on our planet, the better future our kids and their kids will have.

  My Personal Plan for 2021: Continue to reduce emissions by:

•    Improving home insulation
•    Switching from hybrid to electric vehicle
•    No flights
•    Working from home
•    Increasing plot size and growing more vegetables 
•    Charging batteries in daytime to use at night
•    Going to bed earlier? Would this help?
•    Accelerating and braking gently while driving
•    Wind turbine?

   Any other suggestions welcome.

   Here are some other ideas on how you can have a green year:

• Switch to Ecosia search engine who use their profits to plant trees.
• Switch to a renewable energy provider such as Bulb, Good Energy or Ecotricity.
• Set up a direct debit with WordForest.Org, a charity which plants trees and helps communities in Kenya.
• Fly less
• Use your own private car less
• Move away from red meat to a vegan diet
• Sign & share petitions
• Write letters & emails to politicians 
• lobby private companies that engage in dirty energy practices or investments.

   You could argue, "I'm just one person in billions - a drop in the ocean. What difference will it make? Why should I bother?"

   But we are all drops in the ocean...

*These are the formulae I use, but don't ask me where I got them as it was two years ago now...

Formula to convert electricity (Kwh) to CO2 emissions (CO2e/kg) : CO2e/kg = Kwh x 0.2773

Formula to convert gas (ft3) to gas (kwh): gas (kwh) = gas (ft3) x 31.513

To convert gas (kwh) to CO2 emissions : CO2e/kg = gas (kwh) x 0.18

Gallons of fuel spent = mileage/mpg

Car emissions calculated by Car CO2e/kg = (0.051+10.6/mpg) x mileage + (1.968 x mileage/mpg)

Please let me know if you spot an error. 

Thanks, and happy greening!

A Preview from Jake Jones & The Puppy Master

And that's how I found myself on a Greyhound headed west.

It was such a relief to get out of the City. Layers of wrapped up frustrations I never knew I had peeled away via the rumble of the wheels and the browns and beiges of the fields rolling by. I’d forgotten what the horizon looked like. 

My phone buzzed. It was Freda, the social worker in charge of Grizzy’s case; a precocious young black male I’d kinda taken under my wing since our misadventure with The Coffee Cup Killer. 

But that’s another story (available on Amazon).

“Freda,” I said.

“Jake.”

“What’s up?”

“Grizzy’s in trouble again.”

“What’s happened?”

“Another fight. Group of whites in the gym hall. Not sure how it started.”

“Is he okay?”

“Few lumps and bruises. Cut above the eye.”

“Sounds like a bit o’ healthy rough and tumble.”

“‘Cept he put two of the other kids in the hospital wing. He’d filed down a sharp piece of metal he got from somewhere. Used it as a knife.”

Dusty, abandoned office down at the docks. Grizzy and Latte tower over me. The shine in Latte’s eyes matches the gleam on his blade. “I’m gonna cut you up.” 

Hell of a role model. 

“Self defence?” I hazarded.

“End of the day it doesn’t matter who started it. You know the house rules. He’s getting his privileges taken away.”

“Shit, Freda, I gotta get him outta there.”

“No time soon. Not with this going on.”

“What’s he supposed to do, let himself get beat up?”

“Jake, one of those kids is in a critical condition.”

“Putain branlette!” I said, punching the headrest in front of me. Then I took a breath, got hold of myself. “Pardon my French.”

“It’s okay. Just thought you ought to know.”

“Thanks Freda, I appreciate it.”

I hung up and watched a combine harvesting a field of corn spit it down a chute into a trailer being pulled alongside.

I’d barely hung up before my phone rang again. The screen announced, ‘Roger Dingwall’.

“Jesus Christ, Jones!”

“Nice to hear from you too, Roger.”

“What the hell just happened?”

“A combine harvester spat a bunch of corn down a chute into a trailer being pulled alongside.”

“I been getting calls, emails, texts up the wazoo!”

“Sounds uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, it was. Who the hell are The Luminari?”

“Don’t know yet. That’s what I’m on my way to find out.”

“Listen Jake, I’m all for helping you but I’d appreciate a little warning next time you promise my firm’s gonna invest in some shady religious cult.”

“A million bucks.”

“A million what now!?”

“Come on Roger, it’s a nice round number. Or rather one short thin number followed by six nice round numbers.”

“Are you out of my tiny mind!?”

“Look, calm down Roger before you pop a valve. I didn’t make any promises. I’m just danglin’ ‘em in front like a carrot. A gold carrot. A million gold carrots.”

“Well make sure it stays that way. For God’s sake don’t sign anything!”

“Come on Roger, gimme some credit, I’m not a total moron.”

“You’re not? When did that happen?”

“Putain de connard ingrat!” I shouted, punching the headrest in front of me.

“Huh?”

“Pardon my French,” I said, taking a breath to calm down. “Look Roger, are we forgetting I saved your life during ‘Nam?”

“Yeah you saved my life once. Once! And you’ve called in about a hundred damn favours!”

“Would you rather I’d just left you lying there with your toe stuck in the tap?”

“It woulda come out eventually! It was just swollen!”

“Said the priest to the hooker.”

“This is the last time, Jake, the last time, got it!?”

Click.

Things were moving along nicely.

Then the guy in front of me stood up, spitting vitriol at me in French, quickly followed by his female partner, a tour guide and most of the other passengers.

Suddenly the coach screeched to a halt throwing up a plume of dust. Peering out the dirt-smattered windows it was clear that we were far from civilisation. The empty road stretched for miles towards each horizon.

But it was hard to appreciate the view with a bus load of Frenchies hot under the collar, berating me unforgivingly for my bad French.

I glanced up to see the driver — a grey-skinned, lithe, wiry chap in a uniform three sizes too big for him — stomping speedily down the aisle towards me.

“Allez!” he barked, gesturing abruptly with his thumb towards the coach door.

And that’s how I found myself stranded in the middle of nowhere at the side of a long deserted road.

Excerpt from The Puppy Master © Chris R Young 2020. All rights reserved.

Blob Of Mud

 Blobs of mud

shouldn't thud.

They squash and squish

and squirm and squelch

like blood or cud

but shouldn't thud.

Blobs of mud

rise from sludge!

Two arms and legs

dripping, dull

torso, skull,

with groans and moans

it pulls from mire

each limb higher

free from earth

and of it;

mud.

Sensing lights

and life of town,

it lifts a foot and

puts it down -

makes its way

due west with haste;

cruising, oozing, losing

paste.

People peer and leer

and glare and stare!

They know not what

to make of mud-like

creature,

schmoozing there.

They poke with sticks.

throw bricks.

One kicks

and loses shoe

in blob of mud.

It sticks -

the schmuck!

It's stuck,

and off he hops

with leg-like limb

held high and dry.

Amorphous blob!

They gape

at shapeless formless

unformed shape.

Semisolid viscous lava,

facial java,

balaclava.

Then rises sun.

The warmth of day

heats the clay.

With every ray,

weapons of the angry mob,

each sobbing yob

and stone they lob

no longer throbs.

The outer crust

of muddy blob's

now hard like rust!

Rebounds the blow

of each foe's toe.

Each crack and whack

just bounces back!

One sharp rock 

cuts a cow -

a harmless sow -

in pastures new

lays dead now too.

But newfound stony shield

hinders motion -

doesn't yield!

Epidermis,

thicker more,

inch by inch

pervades the core

until at last

the blob of mud

a statue stone!

One last push

by boorish mob

and effigy upends

with thud

in midst

of squashy cud 

and squishy blood.

© Chris R Young 2020 All rights reserved.

25 Tips On How To Survive A Difficult Christmas

As with many cultures around the world, Christmas is not really celebrated in Japan the way it is in the western world. It's more of a romantic time for young couples in love, or for kids. It's not even a public holiday as everything is open as normal. The traditional Christmas dinner in Japan is KFC, with a special Christmas rub if you're lucky.

I loved my time in Japan but I did spend a few lonely Christmas Days there while making a living as an English teacher between 2000 and 2012. My afternoon class students often very kindly invited me over to theirs for Christmas dinner but I recall my first Christmas Day abroad, as a young single gaijin* male, was very difficult. I walked around. I ate fried chicken by myself. I probably had a beer, called home, played Gundam, watched a movie. I don't remember. The point is, I got through it. It wasn't the end of the world.

So here's my guide on how to survive a difficult Christmas.

1. Wish all your friends and family a Merry Christmas on Christmas Eve on social media, and then switch it off. Social media is not a perfect medium of communication and has been shown to cause depression. Take 36 hours off - take a break on Christmas Day. The bulk of waiting notifications will give you something nice to look forward to on Boxing Day.

2. Don't read the news on Christmas Day. If anything critically important happens someone will probably call to let you know. Take the day off. And don't feel guilty doing it.

3. Do some exercise on Christmas Eve. Give your body a chance to prepare for the onslaught of snacks and alcohol you are about to punish it with.

4. Don't drink alcohol two days in a row. Give your body a night to deal with the toxins in your bloodstream before punishing it again. 

5. Replace the social media with books, movies, music, videos games. Spoil yourself with entertainment. You deserve it.

6. Nurture your inner child with creativity. Write a diary, pen a poem, play an instrument, draw, write a funny story, sing a song.

7. Drink water. I interspersed each beer with a glass of water one Christmas and I didn't really get drunk at all. My body thanked me for it. Kind of.

8. Count your blessings. Literally. Go through everything you have in your life that you might not necessarily have should circumstances be different. Count them on one hand, or if you're lucky, two. I once read that "People are not grateful because they're happy - they're happy because they're grateful." Ergo being grateful brings happiness.

9. Send an email, letter or call to someone you appreciate. Tell them, without any expectation of reciprocation. But not via Facebook or Twitter - you're taking the day off, remember?

10. Go out for a walk, in nature preferably. Cleaner air, greener view, happier you. Take photos.

11. Listen to music. Search up a playlist on Youtube, put on some decent headphones, lie down and really listen to that music.

12. Watch comedies. Watch stand up on Youtube. Watch your favourite TV shows. Laugh. Laughter releases all sorts of good shit in your brain. Just do something to make yourself laugh. Make someone else laugh. Laugh for no reason. In Japan they have something called 'Laughing Yoga.' You go there (presumably in sweatpants) and sit around and just laugh for no reason. Ridiculous, isn't it! Makes you laugh, right? Then pretty soon you're laughing for real. Hello endorphins.

13. There's no point eating a lot of unhealthy food if it makes you feel like a stuffed turkey afterwards. Mix in some healthy stuff just for the hell of it. Fruit, vegetables, your body will thank you. Remember it's not a case of Body + Mind, it's a case of Body = Mind. Healthy Body = Healthy Mind.

14. Talk to your Creator.

15. Cry. Watch a sad film. No idea why this helps, but it does.

16. Organise your shelves.

17. Do something nice for someone.

18. Christmas can be hard. Consider it a challenge.

19. Treat yourself to a warm bath.

20. Do some exercise on Boxing Day to give your body a fighting chance to break down all the crap you've stuffed it with and redistribute the paunch to build muscle in other parts such as the arms and legs. Or go for a run.

21. Think of happiness as an investment. you have to put work in to get happiness out. Investing in a short-time low like going for a 15 minute walk/run, can bring returns of a long-term high, making you feel good for the rest of the day. And if you're going to feel like crap anyway you might as well feel it doing some exercise...

22. The reverse is also true. Avoid short-term highs which will bring on long-term lows, such as starting smoking again for example. It's a bad emotional investment. And financial one.

23. Cook or bake something from scratch.

24. If someone special is missing this Christmas, talk about them, enjoy the memory of the good times with them with the rest of the family. Avoid survivor guilt. I doubt they'd want you to feel that way. If you feel comfortable doing it, talk to them aloud. In many cultures they believe they are still out there, or in our hearts, or both. Anyway, the point is, grief is one half of a severed emotional relationship. You miss that person. Heal your end by talking to them. I'm sure they wouldn't mind.

25. Worst comes to the worst, talk to someone. Call the Samaritans (UK) on 116 123 any time of day or night, or whichever group is there to lend an ear in your country. A problem shared is a problem halved, so they say.

That's it. That's all I can think of. Hope it helps, and have a safe, kind, mindful, happy Christmas.

* foreigner

Harmless Lollygagging

I saw this on the Federation of Writers (Scotland) Facebook page and made the unwise joke that it would be clever if someone were to use all of these words in one sentence, and it backfired on me. So I did! Below is the result. Kerfuffle and rigamarole are repeated in the list. Did I get them all?

Well officer, I was gallivanting around in my new banger wearing my bright yellow britches – yes these are the ones – when I witnessed something which made me veritably gobsmacked – completely confuzzled I was – and I pulled up cattywumpus and skewiff to this decrepid old codger’s jalopy to find him lollygagging, doing his usual rigmarole, that’s right, his milarky of trying to hoodwink ragamuffins with his customary fiddle-faddle and humbug-like skullduggery, flogging his ‘home-baked authentic pumpernickle’, which I decided right then and there to put the kibosh on, just to scare the bejeebers out of him, the old flibberty-jibbit, and oh, what a hullabaloo it was, after I shouted, “Thunderation, skedaddle you old Numb-skull, you old nucklehead, you, or I’ll be forced to inform the whosemegadget, you know, the old fuddyduddy (no offence officer) that works at the watchamcallit and inform him of your bogus ‘authentic pumpernickle’ poppycock, when you clearly got it at M&S,” and as soon as I said it the whole thingamebob escalated into a full-blown kerfuffle, because not only was he entirely bamboozled, and flabbergasted by the brouhaha with which I had lambasted him, but it was also clear he had had enough of my ‘wishywashy caterwauling’ (which to be fair I had considered rather bodacious camaraderie) but what else could I do, I was so flummoxed and halfway berserk with his shenanigans, his flim-flam, his baloney, that I kicked him right in the thingamijig, his whatsit, you know, right in the periwinkle, and he was not happy the old nincompoop, in fact I would go so far as to say he was most discombobulated, not only by my audacity that I had deigned to kick him willy-nilly right in the doohicky, but also that I would be persnickety enough to come up with such a ‘balderdash concoction’ (his words) as to accuse him of peddling pukka pumpernickle, and I should not have been goggle-eyed when I heard him retort, “Egads, Mr Tiddly-Smythe, I am fed up to the back teeth with your fiddle-dee-dee, your tomfoolery and your fiddlesticks and I wish you would just accept that you are not the only one in this village who knows how to make delicious, home-made authentic pumpernickle!”